That would be best, yes; I'll shoo Diego out since I'd like a bit of privacy for this. I might even get a nice cheese platter, make an occasion of it!
And you'll have to forgive me my usage of text-based emotional indicators. the ':p' is meant to look like a pair of eyes and a little tongue sticking out, denoting playfulness! So you're safe.
I see. A careful consideration of word choice would render such indicators unnecessary, but I suppose these faces are easier and quicker to use. Rather inelegant, but serving a purpose.
:|
Nuance is difficult, however. I'm uncertain how one would convey thoughtfulness.
[OH MY GOD. oh my god. Pucci needs a minute to compose himself here. This is the best thing.]
It might, but even at the best of times, tone is hard to read over text alone; as well as ease, there's elimination of uncertainty by blatantly portraying your mood
wait
🤔 There! There should be an option to use faces with a little less ambiguity, and that one's the thinking one. ...But I'll try to abstain, since that face you used doesn't exactly show excitement about this concept.
And if you're not going to refuse, then I'm absolutely going to at least let you have a nice night before we get to the important part. Just come over whenever you're ready; I'll have everything waiting tonight.
[ There's like a good five minute pause that he totally didn't spend squinting at emojis. ]
Interesting. I'm afraid I may be too set in my ways to adapt to such things, but it's certainly enlightening to see how human communication has changed over the years.
[ Not necessarily in a good way??? But at least in an interesting way. ]
I won't be too late.
[ True to his word, Avicebron shows up late in the afternoon. Pucci might hear the faint tippy-tap of knifepoint feet down the corridor before there's a knock at his door.
He looks up as soon as the door opens, giving a small nod in greeting. ]
[At least it's not a conversation on the joys of glitter text; Pucci is easily entertained by passive-aggressive tumblr memes, apparently.
But that's for another time, thankfully! Pucci has books to tidy up and a cheese platter to organise; he's still trying to arrange everything artistically when he hears Avicebron's acoustics.]
Coming! [One last attempt at getting the alien brie to sit just so, before he scuttles to the door and throws it open with a smile.
He's not anxious, no. Not vibrating with adrenaline from what he's about to do.] Come in, come in! Thank you for coming at such short notice; I was worried that our tangential conversation might have put you off. I was...
You remember how I mentioned showing you what my-- What Whitesnake looks like? I thought I should do that already.
[ In contrast to the jittery energy Pucci's giving off, Avicebron is perfectly quiet and calm, only looking up and giving a small nod when the door opens. He's curious about what Pucci wants to show him, of course. But he's also grown fairly comfortable around Pucci's presence, and follows along without question when he's let into the apartment.
It's only when Pucci mentions his strange ability that Avicebron perks up a little. ]
Aah, of course.
[ He gives the apartment a cursory glance as he enters, but most of his attention is fixed square on Pucci. ]
I'm honored if you would trust me with that information. I'm aware many abilities lose their potency without an element of surprise. [ An inquisitive tilt of the head. ] But this is rather sudden. Did something happen?
No, no. Nothing's happened! I more...felt guilty, that I know something vital about you but haven't yet returned the gesture. Not that I imagine you'd get caught up on something like that, but it feels important to me.
And it took me this long to gather my nerves. I don't know if you'll...Enjoy what you see, but it's part of me, and I hold no regrets over my past actions. [Strangely enough, that seems to give Pucci back some of his composure; his smile falls a little, but it's into something less tightly laced, more confident.
But first! Snacks. He covers his mouth with one hand all automatic coquettishness, motioning to the couch and appropriate cheesy offering with the other.] ...But I want to hear how your day's been first, if you'd humour me?
[ Pucci's words send a small prickle of guilt down his spine, and he gives a contemplative tilt of the head as he takes a seat on the couch. ]
It would have been hypocritical of me to expect any reciprocation from you. I've still not been entirely truthful to you, either. So I won't take your honesty lightly.
[ That said, he did say he won't turn down Pucci's hospitality, so he looks at the cheese platter. After a moment's consideration, he picks up a piece of something that looks relatively safe and familiar. ]
Well ... I keep myself occupied with my work. At the Lunar Scientia, but also my personal projects. Progress can be slow. But such is the nature of study and creation. [ He lifts his mask up just enough to take a nibble of the cheese. It's pretty good. ] What of yourself? I hope you didn't trouble yourself too much preparing this.
[It's tempting to keep going on about the importance of sharing how much of a mean rat bastard he actually is, but-- well. No point. It might all be moot anyway, soon enough, and-- it's a little more important right now to actually be a good listener.
So listen Pucci does! If Avicebron's sticking to the less alien options, then Pucci's going in for the more colourful varieties and shaving pieces onto the rather bland looking water crackers, nodding along raptly. ...If he doesn't enjoy whatever the hell cheese he just ate, he's not showing it.]
Of course. One day, if you'd bear it, I'd like to come see your work in person. Creation is a very slow thing by nature, but a beautiful process all the same. And even with your best efforts, sometimes you just need to wait for the perfect time and circumstances...It must be a struggle, or would be for anyone else. [One he knows all too well, though that's for another memory.] Though, I'm thinking of things other than golemancy, so perhaps I'm off-base altogether!
As for the platter-- really, it was no trouble at all. I'm just lucky that I didn't waste all of my chroma buying ten million other things that I'd never manage to eat before Iris comes in. I'll freeze whatever we don't eat for when I am that bad, so it's really a boon for me more than anything. [Downy eyelashes lowering, Pucci wipes his forehead and-- something gleaming, holographic parts his skin in a hideous manner. He plucks it out with practiced ease and places the newly formed DISC on the table in front of Avicebron, smile turning apprehensive.]
...Whenever you're ready, put that to your forehead. It won't last forever, but it'll last long enough. ...I really don't want to lose my nerve, I'm sorry; I don't mean to rush you at all. In fact, I'd rather talk about your work forever.
[It's just a simple CD with the word DISC and a picture of two people on the top. One beautiful blonde girl with her hair clipped back from her face, and one tanned young man with a white mullet and dead blue eyes. Kind of anticlimactic, really. But Pucci's regarding it with the look a Death Row inmate might give the electric chair.]
The sudden warping of skin at Pucci's forehead catches him a bit by surprise, and Avicebron drops the piece of cheese he'd been nibbling at. Even when the shape reveals itself as a disc, it takes him a moment to try and digest whatever that was. As much as he's starting to learn that people here have all sorts of abilities, Pucci's is certainly ... very different.
He picks up that dropped piece of cheese to set it aside, wipes his hand, then gingerly picks up the disc. Turns it over, then over again to look at the picture. Starts to raise it to his forehead, then pauses.
His mask and hat vanish with the usual little lightshow, leaving his hair to fluff messily over his face; he has no idea if this will work through his mask, after all. Only then, he awkwardly touches the disk to his forehead. ]
Like this?
[ Giving Pucci an uncertain sideways squint past his mess of hair. He's never had to use a CD in his life. It's a little confusing having his first contact with CDs be in this context. ]
1/2, rip Avicebron's chances of ever using CDs normally
Ah-- yes. Just like that. Don't worry; I can remove it from you without taking your memories with it, since it's an additional...Object, I suppose. There's no r--
[But the DISC automatically slides into Avicebron's forehead soon as it touches his skin, leaving no trace, no entry wound, nothing. Welcome to Pucci's childhood as seen by the man himself, buddy! It's a sudden transition from reality into what's basically fucked up psychic VR.]
[Everything's wet. Everything's wet and heavy, and the same girl from the front of the DISC is now in Avicebron's arms, skin mottled and school uniform waterlogged. There's a boat full of policemen nearby, silently watching each roar of anguish from Pucci-Avicebron as he clutches the girl-- Perla, Perla, his beloved little sister, his best friend-- to his chest.
Then her head splits open.
Her head's split open like it's been cut with a cleaver, ejecting a DISC with her face on it along with little flecks of gore, but the policemen don't react. Only Pucci sees it. Only Pucci gets speared by the arrow, a gift from a stranger he met, right through the neck with more blood, and then things blur away.
Hospital. A fever? Incurable, but now he's sitting upright in bed right as rain, and everything is cold and empty. Whitesnake sits on the bed at Pucci's knees, black and white stripes and black executioner's raiment, dripping pupils and bared teeth. Someone's coming. There's the sudden knowledge that this someone is his brother, his twin brother. His twin brother who he didn't know he had. (Now Avicebron gets the sudden, cold knowledge that this twin brother was in love with Perla and is now coming to kill him, and everything that lead to this was Pucci's fault but not his at all.)
They have the same facial structure, but Wes has lighter skin. The same white hair, and maybe if Wes wasn't full of rage, he'd have the same stars in his eyes. Maybe that's what Perla saw. They confront each other in the hallway of the hospital (Pucci tried to have him killed, says Wes, but Pucci knows that's not what he did to him), and-- Another DISC.
It was a second's difference, but Pucci and Whitesnake, snarling, melting Whitesnake in all its glory, struck first. There's no feeling of victory for it, either. There's nothing but emptiness, confusion, guilt, hatred, every negative little thing boiling up, and the desire to go to the man who gave him this power. To find a power that would make this horrible horrible story make sense. That would fix him. Then the memory starts again in the water until Pucci delicately pulls it from Avicebron's forehead and reinserts it in his own.]
Avicebron buckles when the disc is removed, hand pressed to his mouth and eyes narrowed. He inhales hoarsely before looking away, voice quiet. ]
... if you'll give me a moment. I'm poor at dealing with bloodshed.
[ He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the sight (the smell, the sound, the feel) of that woman's face splitting open as it ejected a disc. The squelch of flesh as that arrow hit its mark. That awful coppery taste of blood in the air. It takes a few deep breaths to push back the little twinge of nausea, and his words come out muffled when he manages to speak. ]
It seems your life was a difficult one. [ To put it lightly. He finally drops his hand, exhaling slowly one last time as he stares off at the far wall. ] And ... a complicated one. I can see why you hesitated to show me.
[ Pucci had to attack his own brother in self-defense. Because that same brother was also in love with his sister, and thought Pucci tried to kill him. Avicebron considers himself fairly jaded when it comes to hearing about scandalous relationships and complicated family circumstances, having spent much of his life around couriers and royalty, but this is pretty up there.
Still, his expression remains calm and neutral, not at all judgemental, when he gives Pucci a sideways glance. There's a lot he wants to ask, but since Pucci framed this memory in the context of 'showing his ability,' he'll start with something along those lines. ]
Your ... ability is closely linked to those circumstances, then?
...I'm sorry. Those were the first two times I used it, and I felt that-- I wanted you to have more realistic expectations of me, as well as see what it looks like. But they were perhaps more intense than I remembered.
Whitesnake was born from my need to preserve Perla's memory, though. I have her life's memory on DISC, at home. I also have my brother's memories, though for my safety over any sentimentality. [There's some cold detachment in his voice now, even though Pucci's burying his face in his hands. Not that it was part of the memory, the whole sordid affair of baby switching and racism, but--
it's clear that he has no affection for the catalyst of all of this. Fuck that guy.
One, two, three deep and controlled breaths, before he manages a faint smile and some eye contact again.] Anyway! There it is. Now you know what to imagine when you hear Whitesnake talking. I have some theories on why it is the way it is, personality-wise, but I can't ever really prove them. And I never got the chance to ask the one man who might've known.
...How are you feeling? I'm sorry for giving you something so grotesque. [It's a little hesitant, but Pucci's still going to attempt to place a hand on Avicebron's knee. Both as comfort, and to test the waters. No, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault apart from those fucking KKK pigs, and the one thing that Wes did right was murdering them. But if Avicebron rejects him for this, for the least controversial part of himself, then Pucci's going to be lost.]
[ Avicebron listens quietly to Pucci's explanation, breaths still forced deep and slow for few moments before they start to even out. And though the hand to at his knee earns a slight shift, it's startled rather than discomforted. He makes no move to shake it off. ]
I'm fine. [ Said calmly with a small nod. ] Despite existing mainly for combat, I've never grown fully accustomed to bloodshed. But I'm fine now.
[ But that's not the main issue here, is it. He closes his eyes and takes one last deep breath before scanning the room. No sign of Whitesnake, of course, but at least now he can picture what might be lurking somewhere in the room, unseen. ]
I don't believe you did anything wrong. [ Ultimately, his gaze slides back to Pucci, and he manages a moment of eye contact before looking away as he always does, face shadowed by the messy tangles of his hair without the mask. ] Not that I'm in any position to judge another person. But I can see how some might condemn your actions. You were in a difficult situation, and perhaps there were other actions you could have taken but ... I've no intention of judging you.
[ And with that out of the way, he furrows his brow in thought, still looking off to the side. There's a pause before he changes the subject. ]
In your memories, it felt as if your ability was given to you by another person. I'd like to ask what those circumstances were.
[He's quiet for a good minute, eyes averted just so that Avicebron can't see how wet they've grown with his acceptance. It's fine. Swallow it back, of course it would be acceptance. Pucci's a good person. A great person. This was unavoidable, but it's still overwhelming, the relief he's feeling.
A soft little sigh, and he's talking again.] ...Thank you. It means a lot to me. I did what I thought was best, even if that paved the road to Hell as the saying goes. As for my ability...
You're not wrong, no. You saw the arrow, didn't you? It was-- a funny story, really. I was tidying the church at night, keeping the candles lit, that sort of thing, and I literally fell over the man who gave me that arrowhead. [That detachment's gone now, replaced wholly by nostalgia and affection. It feels...inappropriate to be touching someone else while talking about DIO, so he straightens up and neatly laces his hands in his lap, smiling absently as he withdraws into that particularly pleasant memory.] He merely wanted sanctuary, said he was allergic to the sun. So I told him that he could stay as long as he left at sunrise, and he...Thought that was amusing. Thought it hilarious that I didn't press further, even if it would be a ridiculous lie to tell in the first place. Clearly it was fate that we met, he said, and maybe we could meet again; so I was given the arrow, in case I ever wanted to see him again.
The story goes about as well as you'd expect it to, I suppose. I'll spare you the details for tonight, at any rate. But you remind me of him in his finest moments. Understanding, dry, more than mortal, and exceedingly brilliant; like a flame when I'm a pathetic moth.
[ The encounter sounds benign enough by Pucci's description. But at the back of his mind, Avicebron can't help finding it ... strange.
Pucci's power is formidable -- the ability to cast illusions would be dangerous in the wrong hands, the ability to manipulate memories doubly so. Not to mention the gruesome manner in which his power had manifested. And it was all caused by that strange arrowhead? What kind of man would hand over such a powerful artifact seemingly on a whim, to someone he'd just met?
Not that it sounds particularly suspect. Just strange. Avicebron dwells on it briefly, but Pucci's glowing praise is more than enough to snap him out of his thoughts. ]
You vastly overrate me. [ There's traces of a tired, sardonic smile on his features. But only for a moment before he touches his face, bringing back his mask. He fidgets with his hair as he continues, gathering up stray locks and tucking them back. ] I'm something inhuman, but my existence is based on a human. I'm terribly flawed, and I've made grave mistakes. You've no need to think of yourself as anything lesser than me.
[ His hat shimmers back into existence as well, and he's his usual self once more, perfectly composed and distant. ]
It seems your life was a tumultuous one, and was heavily affected by the emergence of your ability. But more than your ability, I find your composure impressive -- your current grace and dignity despite having suffered through such events. That much has little to do with whether either of us is human or not.
[Honestly, Pucci's about to protest, but-- well, he catches the tiredness in that little smile and decides better of it. No point in arguing a point he'll never win at personal detriment, right? And they're both clearly tired anyway.
He waves one hand, signalling that particular tangent dealt with, and returns to the cheese platter to occupy himself instead. Just give him a minute, okay.]
Everyone has their troubles, don't they? I don't see myself as special for managing to blunder my way into surviving; that's just how it was meant to be. Nor can I say that I feel I have any grace and composure; it's a coping mechanism and nothing more. ...But that's neither here nor there, I suppose.
...I'm sorry. Those memories affect me about as much as you'd expect, so I fear I'm growing tired and bitter. Even now, I'm struggling to not lecture you for never taking my compliments as though you haven't previously asked me to abstain from them. 'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.' [Time to take his frustration out on the cheese! Brie's not satisfying enough to hack, so one of the harder cheeses will have to do.] ...Avicebron.
If you could change the workings of reality so that you would be able to come to terms with those grave mistakes far easier, to not regret your decisions...Would you do that? Would you avoid anyone suffering as you have?
[ Aah, perhaps he'd pushed things a bit too far? Avicebron ponders it as he watches Pucci attack the innocent chunk of cheese -- but no, he's sure he didn't say anything incorrect. It's an ironclad fact that he's long since lost any respectability, and even if Pucci quotes the Bible at him, that won't lessen the magnitude of his crimes.
And given what Pucci asks next, he almost feels like he's being reminded of it. Even knowing that Pucci isn't aware of what he's done, that question still earns a small flinch, and Avicebron stiffly laces his hands as he looks away. ]
'Change the workings of reality.' [ He echoes those words quietly, ducking his head. There's a pause before he clears his throat, continuing quietly. ] Of course, I dearly wish for the salvation of humanity. More than anything. But ...
[ There's the click of metal parts as he unlaces, then relaces his fingers. Tense. ]
... the greatest sin I committed was in blind pursuit of a similar goal, and it was something that must not be forgiven. Must be regretted. It was my fault for thinking, even for a moment, that good intentions would justify all means. [ He swallows thickly before looking back to Pucci, and there's a harder edge to his voice. ] I apologize for speaking so much of myself. But I trust you won't be so foolish as to make a similar mistake.
[ After all, Pucci was the one who brought the subject up, and it sends an uneasy feeling crawling down his spine. Surely Pucci isn't following that same dark path. He dearly hopes it's just a misunderstanding. ]
[Pucci instantly withdraws, expression vague and evasive, but before he can reply with some glib reassurance--
'He's calling you stupid, Enrico. Calling your life's work foolish. Calling DIO's Heaven of equality a mistake. Twenty-two years. You're not going to give up because your new infatuation thinks it's stupid, are you?'
Pucci doesn't move. Just stares at his feet as Whitesnake idly picks up one of the harder cheeses and starts crushing it. 'And now you can't lie your way out, either. Now he knows you're ugly, full of sin and wrath. Why change course when he'll leave you?']
...I do this for humanity. So they can know true heaven on earth, or here. I can't change my past, but I can help others if I just--
['Tell him what you're really thinking, Enriiiico. The dying defence of a panicking child.'
It starts playing with Avicebron's hair, every inch the poltergeist, and Pucci finally looks up.] It's not foolish. I do this for love, and I won't start regretting my actions now. What will you do, knowing this?
[ He can tell he's struck a nerve. The signs are too obvious to ignore -- the way Pucci recoils, the piece of cheese that crumbles in on itself, the slight tug at his hair. Avicebron briefly glances over at where Whitesnake must be, but ultimately ignores it and looks back to Pucci. ]
I won't condemn you, Enrico.
[ Said quietly, but firmly, after a long moment's consideration. Avicebron forces himself to maintain eye contact past the mask. ]
I don't know the details of your circumstances. Nor am I in the position to judge anyone else's actions. It's not my place to deem your actions wrong.
[ He exhales slowly, trying to push back the discomfort weighing in his chest as he goes on, voice perfectly level and nonjudgmental. ]
Humanity has persevered despite its suffering. And for one human to deem certain sacrifices worthy just to end that tolerable suffering is ... arrogant. That was the mistake I made. Ambition and goodwill are admirable. But I hope you've considered your path carefully -- I don't wish for you to make the same mistake.
...I wish I could reassure you. I know you're not saying any of this lightly, and I don't want you to think that I make light of your experience in turn. ['But he doesn't know, does he?'] --Whitesnake, go. I'm not in the mood.
[So it slips away, oil haze in its wake, and Pucci runs both hands over his feathers with a loud, pained sigh. For once, he's the one not making eye contact; it feels like he's disappointed a favourite teacher, rather than confessed to at least part of his grand plan. There's guilt, sure, but not for the sacrifices he's already made. Not for shooting his long-term bodyguard point blank in the head, not for leaving his twin for dead, not for anything bar having Avicebron know.
But it's also a relief, somehow.] Perhaps it's arrogant. Perhaps I really am foolish. But I will see it happen. And if I don't, then at least I can die knowing that I did what I could for the one person who loved me even when I was broken. People will be equal, and they'll be able to come to terms with their suffering instead of shattering as I did, and as DIO did.
I want you to see it. I want you there, Avicebron. Seeing this transformed world in its beauty, whether I'm in it or not...That would be almost as good as having my King of Kings witness his dream come to fruition.
[ He watches that reaction carefully, wondering what to say. In truth, part of him thinks this is none of his business -- he has no allegiances to this or Pucci's world, and he has no obligations to protect either. And, if Pucci is really capable of creating such a peaceful land, then that would truly be for the best. Who is he to say otherwise?
But deep inside, he knows that humans were never meant to attain such a lofty goal. The world is not something so easily swayed.
His shoulders rise and fall in a small sigh before he reaches out, gently touching at Pucci's forearm. ]
Enrico. I'm irrelevant to this matter. And despite what I said, it's not my place to lecture or criticize you. I only spoke as a ... friend.
[ It's so rare for him to use that word, and it comes out stiffly. But it's not said lightly. He grips gingerly at Pucci's sleeve for a moment before letting go. ]
I feel you're a good person. And I don't wish you to stray from that path. I don't want you to die, and I don't wish for you to define yourself by your singular goal. That is all. [ Especially if it's dangerous, to himself or to others. But he refrains from saying that out loud. Avicebron pulls his hand away, ducking his gaze away. ] ... I apologize. You were honest with me, but I repaid you poorly. It still means a great deal to me. I promise.
It's alright. It's...A lot. Isn't it? Twenty-two years of my life, poured into bettering everyone else's...Since I lost him, I've been defined by his dream, and the fact that only I can do what he needed me to.
[Thankfully, he doesn't sigh again. Though the soft chuckle he lets out is almost one, with the strange sad angle it's got, but-- not quite. It takes another second of effort for Pucci to resume eye contact (and the touch helps as far as motivation goes, as does Avicebron's clear effort to bridge this peculiar gap), and by that time, it's too late. Ah well! Shit happens.]
Please, don't take my refusal to let go as not accepting your counsel. I cherish it greatly, and...This is a relief. I know that I'm forcing you to be party to this, and that's unfair. But I adore you, obviously, so...Even just knowing that you're not rejecting me for what I have to do is beyond the boundary of my vocabulary, really.
And a little part of me wishes that we could've met then, instead. Maybe I could have made you proud and become a real person. I think I would've enjoyed that.
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no subject
And you'll have to forgive me my usage of text-based emotional indicators. the ':p' is meant to look like a pair of eyes and a little tongue sticking out, denoting playfulness! So you're safe.
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:|
Nuance is difficult, however. I'm uncertain how one would convey thoughtfulness.
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In either case, you needn't trouble yourself for my sake. But I won't refuse your hospitality.
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It might, but even at the best of times, tone is hard to read over text alone; as well as ease, there's elimination of uncertainty by blatantly portraying your mood
wait
🤔 There! There should be an option to use faces with a little less ambiguity, and that one's the thinking one. ...But I'll try to abstain, since that face you used doesn't exactly show excitement about this concept.
And if you're not going to refuse, then I'm absolutely going to at least let you have a nice night before we get to the important part. Just come over whenever you're ready; I'll have everything waiting tonight.
no subject
Interesting. I'm afraid I may be too set in my ways to adapt to such things, but it's certainly enlightening to see how human communication has changed over the years.
[ Not necessarily in a good way??? But at least in an interesting way. ]
I won't be too late.
[ True to his word, Avicebron shows up late in the afternoon. Pucci might hear the faint tippy-tap of knifepoint feet down the corridor before there's a knock at his door.
He looks up as soon as the door opens, giving a small nod in greeting. ]
Good afternoon, Enrico.
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But that's for another time, thankfully! Pucci has books to tidy up and a cheese platter to organise; he's still trying to arrange everything artistically when he hears Avicebron's acoustics.]
Coming! [One last attempt at getting the alien brie to sit just so, before he scuttles to the door and throws it open with a smile.
He's not anxious, no. Not vibrating with adrenaline from what he's about to do.] Come in, come in! Thank you for coming at such short notice; I was worried that our tangential conversation might have put you off. I was...
You remember how I mentioned showing you what my-- What Whitesnake looks like? I thought I should do that already.
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It's only when Pucci mentions his strange ability that Avicebron perks up a little. ]
Aah, of course.
[ He gives the apartment a cursory glance as he enters, but most of his attention is fixed square on Pucci. ]
I'm honored if you would trust me with that information. I'm aware many abilities lose their potency without an element of surprise. [ An inquisitive tilt of the head. ] But this is rather sudden. Did something happen?
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And it took me this long to gather my nerves. I don't know if you'll...Enjoy what you see, but it's part of me, and I hold no regrets over my past actions. [Strangely enough, that seems to give Pucci back some of his composure; his smile falls a little, but it's into something less tightly laced, more confident.
But first! Snacks. He covers his mouth with one hand all automatic coquettishness, motioning to the couch and appropriate cheesy offering with the other.] ...But I want to hear how your day's been first, if you'd humour me?
no subject
It would have been hypocritical of me to expect any reciprocation from you. I've still not been entirely truthful to you, either. So I won't take your honesty lightly.
[ That said, he did say he won't turn down Pucci's hospitality, so he looks at the cheese platter. After a moment's consideration, he picks up a piece of something that looks relatively safe and familiar. ]
Well ... I keep myself occupied with my work. At the Lunar Scientia, but also my personal projects. Progress can be slow. But such is the nature of study and creation. [ He lifts his mask up just enough to take a nibble of the cheese. It's pretty good. ] What of yourself? I hope you didn't trouble yourself too much preparing this.
no subject
So listen Pucci does! If Avicebron's sticking to the less alien options, then Pucci's going in for the more colourful varieties and shaving pieces onto the rather bland looking water crackers, nodding along raptly. ...If he doesn't enjoy whatever the hell cheese he just ate, he's not showing it.]
Of course. One day, if you'd bear it, I'd like to come see your work in person. Creation is a very slow thing by nature, but a beautiful process all the same. And even with your best efforts, sometimes you just need to wait for the perfect time and circumstances...It must be a struggle, or would be for anyone else. [One he knows all too well, though that's for another memory.] Though, I'm thinking of things other than golemancy, so perhaps I'm off-base altogether!
As for the platter-- really, it was no trouble at all. I'm just lucky that I didn't waste all of my chroma buying ten million other things that I'd never manage to eat before Iris comes in. I'll freeze whatever we don't eat for when I am that bad, so it's really a boon for me more than anything. [Downy eyelashes lowering, Pucci wipes his forehead and-- something gleaming, holographic parts his skin in a hideous manner. He plucks it out with practiced ease and places the newly formed DISC on the table in front of Avicebron, smile turning apprehensive.]
...Whenever you're ready, put that to your forehead. It won't last forever, but it'll last long enough. ...I really don't want to lose my nerve, I'm sorry; I don't mean to rush you at all. In fact, I'd rather talk about your work forever.
[It's just a simple CD with the word DISC and a picture of two people on the top. One beautiful blonde girl with her hair clipped back from her face, and one tanned young man with a white mullet and dead blue eyes. Kind of anticlimactic, really. But Pucci's regarding it with the look a Death Row inmate might give the electric chair.]
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The sudden warping of skin at Pucci's forehead catches him a bit by surprise, and Avicebron drops the piece of cheese he'd been nibbling at. Even when the shape reveals itself as a disc, it takes him a moment to try and digest whatever that was. As much as he's starting to learn that people here have all sorts of abilities, Pucci's is certainly ... very different.
He picks up that dropped piece of cheese to set it aside, wipes his hand, then gingerly picks up the disc. Turns it over, then over again to look at the picture. Starts to raise it to his forehead, then pauses.
His mask and hat vanish with the usual little lightshow, leaving his hair to fluff messily over his face; he has no idea if this will work through his mask, after all. Only then, he awkwardly touches the disk to his forehead. ]
Like this?
[ Giving Pucci an uncertain sideways squint past his mess of hair. He's never had to use a CD in his life. It's a little confusing having his first contact with CDs be in this context. ]
1/2, rip Avicebron's chances of ever using CDs normally
[But the DISC automatically slides into Avicebron's forehead soon as it touches his skin, leaving no trace, no entry wound, nothing. Welcome to Pucci's childhood as seen by the man himself, buddy! It's a sudden transition from reality into what's basically fucked up psychic VR.]
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Then her head splits open.
Her head's split open like it's been cut with a cleaver, ejecting a DISC with her face on it along with little flecks of gore, but the policemen don't react. Only Pucci sees it. Only Pucci gets speared by the arrow, a gift from a stranger he met, right through the neck with more blood, and then things blur away.
Hospital. A fever? Incurable, but now he's sitting upright in bed right as rain, and everything is cold and empty. Whitesnake sits on the bed at Pucci's knees, black and white stripes and black executioner's raiment, dripping pupils and bared teeth. Someone's coming. There's the sudden knowledge that this someone is his brother, his twin brother. His twin brother who he didn't know he had. (Now Avicebron gets the sudden, cold knowledge that this twin brother was in love with Perla and is now coming to kill him, and everything that lead to this was Pucci's fault but not his at all.)
They have the same facial structure, but Wes has lighter skin. The same white hair, and maybe if Wes wasn't full of rage, he'd have the same stars in his eyes. Maybe that's what Perla saw. They confront each other in the hallway of the hospital (Pucci tried to have him killed, says Wes, but Pucci knows that's not what he did to him), and-- Another DISC.
It was a second's difference, but Pucci and Whitesnake, snarling, melting Whitesnake in all its glory, struck first. There's no feeling of victory for it, either. There's nothing but emptiness, confusion, guilt, hatred, every negative little thing boiling up, and the desire to go to the man who gave him this power. To find a power that would make this horrible horrible story make sense. That would fix him. Then the memory starts again in the water until Pucci delicately pulls it from Avicebron's forehead and reinserts it in his own.]
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Avicebron buckles when the disc is removed, hand pressed to his mouth and eyes narrowed. He inhales hoarsely before looking away, voice quiet. ]
... if you'll give me a moment. I'm poor at dealing with bloodshed.
[ He closes his eyes, trying not to think about the sight (the smell, the sound, the feel) of that woman's face splitting open as it ejected a disc. The squelch of flesh as that arrow hit its mark. That awful coppery taste of blood in the air. It takes a few deep breaths to push back the little twinge of nausea, and his words come out muffled when he manages to speak. ]
It seems your life was a difficult one. [ To put it lightly. He finally drops his hand, exhaling slowly one last time as he stares off at the far wall. ] And ... a complicated one. I can see why you hesitated to show me.
[ Pucci had to attack his own brother in self-defense. Because that same brother was also in love with his sister, and thought Pucci tried to kill him. Avicebron considers himself fairly jaded when it comes to hearing about scandalous relationships and complicated family circumstances, having spent much of his life around couriers and royalty, but this is pretty up there.
Still, his expression remains calm and neutral, not at all judgemental, when he gives Pucci a sideways glance. There's a lot he wants to ask, but since Pucci framed this memory in the context of 'showing his ability,' he'll start with something along those lines. ]
Your ... ability is closely linked to those circumstances, then?
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Whitesnake was born from my need to preserve Perla's memory, though. I have her life's memory on DISC, at home. I also have my brother's memories, though for my safety over any sentimentality. [There's some cold detachment in his voice now, even though Pucci's burying his face in his hands. Not that it was part of the memory, the whole sordid affair of baby switching and racism, but--
it's clear that he has no affection for the catalyst of all of this. Fuck that guy.
One, two, three deep and controlled breaths, before he manages a faint smile and some eye contact again.] Anyway! There it is. Now you know what to imagine when you hear Whitesnake talking. I have some theories on why it is the way it is, personality-wise, but I can't ever really prove them. And I never got the chance to ask the one man who might've known.
...How are you feeling? I'm sorry for giving you something so grotesque. [It's a little hesitant, but Pucci's still going to attempt to place a hand on Avicebron's knee. Both as comfort, and to test the waters. No, it wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault apart from those fucking KKK pigs, and the one thing that Wes did right was murdering them. But if Avicebron rejects him for this, for the least controversial part of himself, then Pucci's going to be lost.]
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I'm fine. [ Said calmly with a small nod. ] Despite existing mainly for combat, I've never grown fully accustomed to bloodshed. But I'm fine now.
[ But that's not the main issue here, is it. He closes his eyes and takes one last deep breath before scanning the room. No sign of Whitesnake, of course, but at least now he can picture what might be lurking somewhere in the room, unseen. ]
I don't believe you did anything wrong. [ Ultimately, his gaze slides back to Pucci, and he manages a moment of eye contact before looking away as he always does, face shadowed by the messy tangles of his hair without the mask. ] Not that I'm in any position to judge another person. But I can see how some might condemn your actions. You were in a difficult situation, and perhaps there were other actions you could have taken but ... I've no intention of judging you.
[ And with that out of the way, he furrows his brow in thought, still looking off to the side. There's a pause before he changes the subject. ]
In your memories, it felt as if your ability was given to you by another person. I'd like to ask what those circumstances were.
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A soft little sigh, and he's talking again.] ...Thank you. It means a lot to me. I did what I thought was best, even if that paved the road to Hell as the saying goes. As for my ability...
You're not wrong, no. You saw the arrow, didn't you? It was-- a funny story, really. I was tidying the church at night, keeping the candles lit, that sort of thing, and I literally fell over the man who gave me that arrowhead. [That detachment's gone now, replaced wholly by nostalgia and affection. It feels...inappropriate to be touching someone else while talking about DIO, so he straightens up and neatly laces his hands in his lap, smiling absently as he withdraws into that particularly pleasant memory.] He merely wanted sanctuary, said he was allergic to the sun. So I told him that he could stay as long as he left at sunrise, and he...Thought that was amusing. Thought it hilarious that I didn't press further, even if it would be a ridiculous lie to tell in the first place. Clearly it was fate that we met, he said, and maybe we could meet again; so I was given the arrow, in case I ever wanted to see him again.
The story goes about as well as you'd expect it to, I suppose. I'll spare you the details for tonight, at any rate. But you remind me of him in his finest moments. Understanding, dry, more than mortal, and exceedingly brilliant; like a flame when I'm a pathetic moth.
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Pucci's power is formidable -- the ability to cast illusions would be dangerous in the wrong hands, the ability to manipulate memories doubly so. Not to mention the gruesome manner in which his power had manifested. And it was all caused by that strange arrowhead? What kind of man would hand over such a powerful artifact seemingly on a whim, to someone he'd just met?
Not that it sounds particularly suspect. Just strange. Avicebron dwells on it briefly, but Pucci's glowing praise is more than enough to snap him out of his thoughts. ]
You vastly overrate me. [ There's traces of a tired, sardonic smile on his features. But only for a moment before he touches his face, bringing back his mask. He fidgets with his hair as he continues, gathering up stray locks and tucking them back. ] I'm something inhuman, but my existence is based on a human. I'm terribly flawed, and I've made grave mistakes. You've no need to think of yourself as anything lesser than me.
[ His hat shimmers back into existence as well, and he's his usual self once more, perfectly composed and distant. ]
It seems your life was a tumultuous one, and was heavily affected by the emergence of your ability. But more than your ability, I find your composure impressive -- your current grace and dignity despite having suffered through such events. That much has little to do with whether either of us is human or not.
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He waves one hand, signalling that particular tangent dealt with, and returns to the cheese platter to occupy himself instead. Just give him a minute, okay.]
Everyone has their troubles, don't they? I don't see myself as special for managing to blunder my way into surviving; that's just how it was meant to be. Nor can I say that I feel I have any grace and composure; it's a coping mechanism and nothing more. ...But that's neither here nor there, I suppose.
...I'm sorry. Those memories affect me about as much as you'd expect, so I fear I'm growing tired and bitter. Even now, I'm struggling to not lecture you for never taking my compliments as though you haven't previously asked me to abstain from them. 'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.' [Time to take his frustration out on the cheese! Brie's not satisfying enough to hack, so one of the harder cheeses will have to do.] ...Avicebron.
If you could change the workings of reality so that you would be able to come to terms with those grave mistakes far easier, to not regret your decisions...Would you do that? Would you avoid anyone suffering as you have?
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And given what Pucci asks next, he almost feels like he's being reminded of it. Even knowing that Pucci isn't aware of what he's done, that question still earns a small flinch, and Avicebron stiffly laces his hands as he looks away. ]
'Change the workings of reality.' [ He echoes those words quietly, ducking his head. There's a pause before he clears his throat, continuing quietly. ] Of course, I dearly wish for the salvation of humanity. More than anything. But ...
[ There's the click of metal parts as he unlaces, then relaces his fingers. Tense. ]
... the greatest sin I committed was in blind pursuit of a similar goal, and it was something that must not be forgiven. Must be regretted. It was my fault for thinking, even for a moment, that good intentions would justify all means. [ He swallows thickly before looking back to Pucci, and there's a harder edge to his voice. ] I apologize for speaking so much of myself. But I trust you won't be so foolish as to make a similar mistake.
[ After all, Pucci was the one who brought the subject up, and it sends an uneasy feeling crawling down his spine. Surely Pucci isn't following that same dark path. He dearly hopes it's just a misunderstanding. ]
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'He's calling you stupid, Enrico. Calling your life's work foolish. Calling DIO's Heaven of equality a mistake. Twenty-two years. You're not going to give up because your new infatuation thinks it's stupid, are you?'
Pucci doesn't move. Just stares at his feet as Whitesnake idly picks up one of the harder cheeses and starts crushing it. 'And now you can't lie your way out, either. Now he knows you're ugly, full of sin and wrath. Why change course when he'll leave you?']
...I do this for humanity. So they can know true heaven on earth, or here. I can't change my past, but I can help others if I just--
['Tell him what you're really thinking, Enriiiico. The dying defence of a panicking child.'
It starts playing with Avicebron's hair, every inch the poltergeist, and Pucci finally looks up.] It's not foolish. I do this for love, and I won't start regretting my actions now. What will you do, knowing this?
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I won't condemn you, Enrico.
[ Said quietly, but firmly, after a long moment's consideration. Avicebron forces himself to maintain eye contact past the mask. ]
I don't know the details of your circumstances. Nor am I in the position to judge anyone else's actions. It's not my place to deem your actions wrong.
[ He exhales slowly, trying to push back the discomfort weighing in his chest as he goes on, voice perfectly level and nonjudgmental. ]
Humanity has persevered despite its suffering. And for one human to deem certain sacrifices worthy just to end that tolerable suffering is ... arrogant. That was the mistake I made. Ambition and goodwill are admirable. But I hope you've considered your path carefully -- I don't wish for you to make the same mistake.
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...I wish I could reassure you. I know you're not saying any of this lightly, and I don't want you to think that I make light of your experience in turn. ['But he doesn't know, does he?'] --Whitesnake, go. I'm not in the mood.
[So it slips away, oil haze in its wake, and Pucci runs both hands over his feathers with a loud, pained sigh. For once, he's the one not making eye contact; it feels like he's disappointed a favourite teacher, rather than confessed to at least part of his grand plan. There's guilt, sure, but not for the sacrifices he's already made. Not for shooting his long-term bodyguard point blank in the head, not for leaving his twin for dead, not for anything bar having Avicebron know.
But it's also a relief, somehow.] Perhaps it's arrogant. Perhaps I really am foolish. But I will see it happen. And if I don't, then at least I can die knowing that I did what I could for the one person who loved me even when I was broken. People will be equal, and they'll be able to come to terms with their suffering instead of shattering as I did, and as DIO did.
I want you to see it. I want you there, Avicebron. Seeing this transformed world in its beauty, whether I'm in it or not...That would be almost as good as having my King of Kings witness his dream come to fruition.
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But deep inside, he knows that humans were never meant to attain such a lofty goal. The world is not something so easily swayed.
His shoulders rise and fall in a small sigh before he reaches out, gently touching at Pucci's forearm. ]
Enrico. I'm irrelevant to this matter. And despite what I said, it's not my place to lecture or criticize you. I only spoke as a ... friend.
[ It's so rare for him to use that word, and it comes out stiffly. But it's not said lightly. He grips gingerly at Pucci's sleeve for a moment before letting go. ]
I feel you're a good person. And I don't wish you to stray from that path. I don't want you to die, and I don't wish for you to define yourself by your singular goal. That is all. [ Especially if it's dangerous, to himself or to others. But he refrains from saying that out loud. Avicebron pulls his hand away, ducking his gaze away. ] ... I apologize. You were honest with me, but I repaid you poorly. It still means a great deal to me. I promise.
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[Thankfully, he doesn't sigh again. Though the soft chuckle he lets out is almost one, with the strange sad angle it's got, but-- not quite. It takes another second of effort for Pucci to resume eye contact (and the touch helps as far as motivation goes, as does Avicebron's clear effort to bridge this peculiar gap), and by that time, it's too late. Ah well! Shit happens.]
Please, don't take my refusal to let go as not accepting your counsel. I cherish it greatly, and...This is a relief. I know that I'm forcing you to be party to this, and that's unfair. But I adore you, obviously, so...Even just knowing that you're not rejecting me for what I have to do is beyond the boundary of my vocabulary, really.
And a little part of me wishes that we could've met then, instead. Maybe I could have made you proud and become a real person. I think I would've enjoyed that.
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